6
Bliss
THIS WAS A joke. A massively unfunny joke.
I’d fixed my hair, retouched my makeup, donned my best outfit, thrown on my best jewelry, and I was fairly certain that their toilet bowl scrubber still cost more than my entire outfit.
Why hadn’t he told me?
I got that he didn’t talk about his family much. They clearly weren’t close. God knows I didn’t talk about mine much, either, except to complain. But you’d think he could have just taken half a second to drop a quick “By the way, my family is loaded” into conversation.
If I was worried that Mrs. Taylor might think I wasn’t good enough for her son before, it was pretty much a solidified fact now.
I didn’t fit here. At all. Not even almost. One of these things is really not like the others.
And to make matters worse, Garrick looked perfect when I exited the bathroom. He’d donned a button-up shirt and tie to go with his khaki pants, and he looked effortless. Unlike me, he fit.
And a small, niggling voice in my mind asked how it was possible then that we fitted together? I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and Garrick crossed the room to place a kiss on my forehead.
“You look lovely.”
I smiled, but I didn’t feel it. “Thanks. So do you.”
“Everything is going to be fine.”
He’d said that so many times that it didn’t mean anything anymore. Like when you say a word too much and it stops sounding like itself and feels alien and foreign in your head.
“Let’s go then,” I said.
His hands cupped my jaw, and he leaned in for a kiss. I tilted my head back away from him.
“You’ll get lipstick on you.”
“I don’t care, love. The only thing I care about right now in this entire house is you.”
My resolve melted, and he brushed a feather-light kiss across my lips, somehow coming out lipstick-free. He laced our fingers together and planted another kiss on the back of my hand.
I wanted the gesture to be comforting, but it only made me more unsettled. It only made me wonder more what he could possibly see in me.
Together, we descended the stairs back into the jungle of champagne flutes and designer handbags and outfits that put mine to shame. It was a forest of self-esteem issues waiting to happen, and I was smack-dab in the middle of it.
We’d barely made it two feet past the base of the stairs before we were intercepted by a group of people.
“Garrick! So good to see you!”
He let go of my hand to greet a guy about Garrick’s age. He had dark hair, combed perfectly, and wore a suit. Again, I say, in what world is a suit casual?
“John, it’s good to see you, too. This is my fiancée, Bliss.”
John turned to the side and a woman stepped up beside him. She, too, had dark hair, fixed into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck. I concentrated on not touching my out-of-control curls in response.
“Lovely to meet you, Bliss. This is my wife, Amy.”
I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
God, this was repetitive.
She laughed. “Oh no, the pleasure is all mine.”
I was probably supposed to say something more, but all that came to mind was insisting that the pleasure was actually mine, like a freaking tug of war. But that would have been a lie anyway, so I just stayed silent.
After a few painful seconds, Garrick added, “John and I went to school together.”
John nodded, his smile plastic. “I loved your father’s reminder that you were first in our class. Still can’t get away from coming in second even all these years later.”
Garrick laughed, and I could tell he was uncomfortable by the stiffness of his hand when he laced our fingers together again. But you would never know it from his face.
Maybe that’s what I needed to do to get through this. I needed to act. I needed to turn off Bliss and become someone else, someone who fit in this place and knew what to say and what not to say. If I became that someone else, I could separate my thoughts from my own worries and maybe get through this night intact. The stage was the only place I ever really felt confident, and I could use a bit of confidence at the moment. So that’s what I did. I played a part.
“So John,” I asked. “What have you been doing since the last time you and Garrick saw each other? Catch us up.”
“Well”—he kissed the back of Amy’s hand—“I got married. Beat you on that front, at least.” God, this guy was a prick. No wonder Garrick was so stiff. “I’m now working as a software designer.”
“A software designer? That’s interesting. I bet that’s challenging.”
“Oh, not really. It’s a bit boring really. Though I’m sure in comparison to what Taylor over here is doing these days, it probably looks like brain surgery.”
I laughed, thinking with each little chuckle how satisfying it would be to punch him in the face.
“Well, some of us are blessed to have careers that we love and are simple because we love them. Others get jobs that are, what did you say? Boring? But maybe someday you’ll grow to love it.”
Garrick lowered his head and gave a cough that was suspiciously laugh-like and said, “It’s was nice chatting with you John, Amy. But we should probably make the rounds. Lots of people to see.”
Once he’d led me a few feet away, his shoulders began to bounce in laughter.
He said, “I realize I’m being redundant now, but I just can’t help it. Marry me?”
“You’re going to make me wear out the word yes.”
“Nah. I’m saving that goal for our wedding night.”
Miraculously, I managed to keep my blush to a minimum. I had a pretty tight rein on my reactions at the moment.
He walked me through the rest of the room talking to more old classmates, friends of the family, and neighbors. They were old, young, male, female, and I held my own. I wasn’t quite as charming as Garrick. That wasn’t humanly possible for me. Or most people, really. But I did okay. I watched people’s expressions change as they talked to me. They went from wary or amused (probably due to my entrance) to smiling and accepting.
I took a deep breath, and felt proud.
Garrick brushed a kiss against my cheek, and said, “You’re doing wonderfully. See? Nothing to worry about.”
I smiled, but there was a sour taste on my tongue. It was a good thing . . . that I could force myself to fit here in his life. I just wished I hadn’t had to be someone else to do it.
Almost as if she could sense my vulnerability, his mother made her reappearance then. She kissed Garrick’s cheek, and surveyed his outfit. “Better. Much better.”
She glanced briefly at my dress, but didn’t say anything.
“Everything going okay? I saw you talking to Mrs. Everheart. Is she well?”
“When is she not well?” Garrick asked. “How old is she now, a century?”
Ah. I nodded, remembering who they were talking about now.
His mom shrugged. “Who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised if she outlasted me just to spite all those grabby children of hers, dying for her inheritance.”
I took a deep breath, and tried not to let it show how disgusting I found this whole thing. That old woman, Margaret was her name, had been so sweet. She reminded me of Cade’s grandma, and the time he’d introduced us during college. She was kind, but you could definitely tell she was a firecracker underneath. That her own children would just see her as dollar signs was terrible. And that Garrick’s mum and even Garrick didn’t seem appalled by it . . . that was even worse.
Mrs. Taylor turned her eyes on me then, and said coolly, “So, Bliss, tell me about yourself?”
Not such a difficult question. But did I answer genuinely? Or did I tell her what she wanted to hear?